


Endearments

by TheStarChasr



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comedy, Drama & Romance, Endearments, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, Implied Sexual Content, Pining, Post-Game, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-18 01:24:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21519631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStarChasr/pseuds/TheStarChasr
Summary: Throughout one's life, they receive many titles, names, endearments. Byleth Eisner did not expect much from her new position at Garreg Mach and yet, everything changed because of it. All because a certain prince kept saying that title a certain way.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 32
Kudos: 342





	1. Many Names

**Author's Note:**

> It feels so good to be writing again. School, computer, and good ol insecurities kept me away but it really does feel good to be back. I plan to have larger projects uploaded once the semester ends so please stay tuned and enjoy this little labor of love!
> 
> [Much thanks to lunartotems for always being my place to turn to. Your friendship has gotten be through a lot. thanks for always letting me throw ideas at yo face. this fic and the ones after wouldn't happen if not for you. ❤](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunartotems/pseuds/lunartotems)
> 
> [And much thanks to Tacticiangirl, my senpai and amiga. Thank you so much for all the support and feedback given, you is amazing *3*](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tacticiangirl/pseuds/Tacticiangirl)

**Professor.**

That's what she went by now. No one told her students to call her that, they just did. It felt odd at first to suddenly be addressed with a title she did not work to achieve.

"Professor, how's my stance?"

"Professor! It's lunchtime!"

"Professor, I require your assistance."

All phrases she eventually grew accustomed to hearing as time passed at Garreg Mach.

She caught her father cackling over tea time about it. "You're like a real professor now," he said before downing his ale. And he was right. Supposedly she was a real professor now, as faculty and students addressed her as such.

But sometimes such a casual calling sounded so different when spoken by another.

"Professor! I've been looking for you!" The voice was always...giddy? Happy? Excited perhaps? Always accompanied by blue eyes that shined brightly and a smile that made her blink twice in its radiance. Never condescending or downcast.

Sometimes that excitement transformed into tenderness.

"Professor, allow me to express my gratitude by taking you to dinner."

Yes, tenderness. It brought strange flutters in her stomach. Something different from the feelings of hunger or dread. Instead, the way he called her made her feel...giddy? Happy? She could not tell, but it was definitely strange. 

She was immensely appreciative of him. Her house lord was always patient with her as he showed her the proper outline for a lecture. Just as he was also attentive when she showed him a parry motion for a lance. The feeling was strange indeed, but she found herself learning just as much from him as he did from her.

The strangest feeling appeared during their weekly tea time. As the prince discussed fond memories and weapon upkeep, the strangest thing happened. A well-placed tease and jest from her caused his cheeks to turn the slightest shade of pink that spread all the way to the tip of his ears in a way that could only be described as cute.

She blinked. Did she really just think he was cute?

And then he stared up at her, "Professor", he said almost breathlessly.

That's when that feeling doubled—or tripled, she did not know. But she did know that it was unfamiliar and wholly forbidden.

She busied herself with her other students, Ingrid's supposed fiancée fiasco or Felix's black magic lessons. Something to take her mind off of the way her title sounded against the house lord's lips. 

However, she was foolish to deny herself. Against her better judgment, each time the two sat down for tea and swapped tales he would display that smile and speak her title once more. "Professor, you truly are amazing," he complimented once as she felt her cheeks begin to heat. All the more when a shiver of glee raced down her spine at the look on his face when she smiled at him. Yes, she was foolish indeed.

However, fate works in many ways. She could not have foreseen how things would change. How Remire Village would change everything, change him. His headaches grew worse, his eyes became unfocused, his smile was pained. "Professor," he would choke out, "I'm fine, truly."

And she believed him.

Perhaps it was a form of denial? Who knows. But even she had to face the truth that the Prince of Faerghus was not himself anymore. Dedue expressed his worries to her, "Professor, he has not been sleeping." Ashe then approached her afterwards, "I'm worried about him, Professor." Even Felix Fraldarius himself caught her before class, "The boar has been pacing around his room, Professor. It’s annoying."

But all attempts of reaching out to him were met with: "there's no need to worry, Professor." With every pronunciation of her title, he would echo the expression of old. But it was just that, an echo. His smile no longer reached his eyes, his voice was strained or forced, and her worry only grew exponentially.

Her title was called out many times as an army marched upon the monastery.

"Professor, what do we do?"

”Professor, I’m scared.”

”What’s the plan for defense, Professor?”

But as always, the voice that stood out the most was a lone cry of "professor" as she felt herself fall into the darkness.

-

-

-

1185.

The year felt strange in her mind.

It had to be some cruel joke from a bored villager.

But the single blue eye sitting atop a lonesome tower said otherwise.

The sweet and tender voice that once called, "Professor," had now become a sneer.

Fate had been cruel to him. The student she once had was now a man who was tired and cold. His voice had dropped into a low timbre that no longer pitched in joy upon her arrival. Instead, it almost seemed to dip into a deep growl. "Go away," he would say. "Stay out of this," he snarled.

As her students returned one by one the title appeared to have gained meaning again.

"Professor, I'm so glad you're safe."

"Professor, it is good to see you."

"Let's have lunch some time, Professor."

She tried to feel joy, comfort, even a sense of security whenever her students addressed her. But none of it mattered when the sight of the figure standing alone in the cathedral came into view. He muttered to himself about reverence, vengeance, and the like. By this point, he no longer addressed her. Not by her title, name, or even a simple "you." All there was now is silence as he prayed for revenge, and she prayed for him.

Perhaps she had been gone too long? Perhaps she truly had failed him?

If that were true, she was not worthy of bearing this title anymore. She was not worthy of standing by his side any longer. 

-

-

-

"Professor! get down!"

The deep rumble of his voice alerted her across the battlefield as an ax was hurled in her direction. The desperate Adrestian general fought his best but she knew at the sound of heavy footsteps bounding closer and closer that this general did not stand a chance. He knew it as well as her students rushed and bound him as he followed without much struggle.

She wished she could focus on the situation at hand, but the way the prince called her name had sent her mind reeling. It was not the usual bark or sneer, but instead a cry of concern. Couple that with the way he ran to her, trailed his eye up and down her figure to inspect for injuries before sighing in relief.

Those old flutters returned to her stomach and made her feel foolish.

Was she foolish enough to believe he still cared for her? Was it foolish to belief that moment of tenderness could be a sign she still reached him? Perhaps.

The rain-filled night by the stables confirmed her foolishness.

As she stood before him, soaked to the bone and hiding her shivers. His cold eye bore into her as she refused to leave her spot.

"You seem to have all the answers. So tell me, Professor. Please tell me." She knew the way his voice cracked then would haunt her. "How do I silence their desperate pleas?"

The advice she had given years ago before did not prepare her for this. What answer could she give? What words sufficed to offer this poor soul before her? She contemplated, thought herself to be a terrible professor until four words rang clearly in her mind.

"You must forgive yourself."

Forgiveness is not an easy feat, especially when the one you truly loathe is yourself. But she cared about him—greatly, she might add. And it was her hope that with time and proper care, he would care about himself as well.

* * *

**My friend.**

The sound of cheer and revelry almost sounded foreign on the tactician's ears. The sound of people rejoicing at the return of their king was a sight that shook her very bones.

The feeling was doubled for the man who stood at the forefront of the balcony as his subjects welcomed him. "Do I have a right to stand here?" He asked as emotion overtook his voice in the end. "Bloodstained as I am?" The broken sob punctuating his question made her brows furrow in concern.

"Don't cry, Dimitri, this is a happy time."

His response was a glance, a smile, and: "these are happy tears, my friend."

She almost felt like part of the crowd. Gazing at him in wonder and amazement as he waved joyfully at the people. But deep down, a warmth bloomed in her chest. Because she wasn't just part of the crowd.

She is his friend.

-

-

-

It almost felt like a promotion.

She was not his professor anymore, despite the title sticking like glue, she was his friend now. The two were now equals in a sense, though their stations demanded differently. He still sought her council, just as she now sought his expertise for diplomatic relations and conducting a war table. As prince and tactician, they had spent many nights drafting and routing battle strategies that would often lead to Dedue finding them in the library to chase them to sleep.

The two resumed their meetings for tea every week, with the added condition of no talk about the war. Simply warm tea and fresh snacks shared between two friends that acted as though the weight of the world was not on their shoulders.

He was laughing a lot more now, as was she. Notably, after he said something akin to: "Don't worry my friend, I'm sure Gilbert will listen." The slight grumble in his deep voice never failed to ignite that warmth in her chest. His laughter made her cheeks color like never before. And his smile made her ache in a way wholly unfamiliar.

"My friend," she rolled the word around. Something was wrong, not with the word or him—but with her. She should feel happy at being his friend, right?

And yet, why was it not enough?

She recalled the fondness in his eye as she dragged him to the celebration in Arianrhod. The way he smiled and softened as her arm wrapped around his own and they entered together.

Was that look one offered to a friend? Did he gaze the same way towards Dedue or Sylvain? People he considered friends.

Perhaps it would be best she not know. Either answer wouldn't make much difference in the end.

Or would it?

It was early evening when the prince and tactician presented their finalized route and battle plan for Enbarr. Seteth stood and cleared his throat before he informed the room that the Church has decided to appoint Byleth Eisner as the next Archbishop.

Such an announcement caused her to blink twice—thrice as all eyes in the room turned to the tactician by the chalkboard.

Dimitri's sole blue was wide, his mouth slightly open until his voice boomed across the room, "that is wonderful news, my friend—I mean, your grace."

Somehow the news didn't feel as wonderful.

* * *

**Your Grace.**

It felt like a downgrade. Now it seemed there was a distance she did not place.

"Please Dimitri," she said during one of their tea times, "I'm not the archbishop yet. There is no need for such formalities." He responded with a smile and a small chuckle erupted from his chest, "I'm serious."

"Forgive me, my friend," _ah there it is_ , "I simply wish to give you the honor you deserve."

Words bubbled in her throat that made her blush but she could not contain, clearing her throat and looking away from his eye she said: "The greatest honor I possess is being your friend."

She turned her eyes back to him as the silence dragged on, her emeralds widening at the blush that tipped his ears like the days of old. "The feeling is mutual," he said, his voice unbearably steady and warm.

Was the feeling mutual? Not on his part, but hers? _The greatest honor is being his friend_ , she would repeat to herself. But no, deep down she knew better.

Deep down she was not content with being his professor, his friend, and especially not 'your grace.'

As the army marched for Enbarr, her mother's ring burned a hole in her pocket. Her father's voice echoed in her mind as she met with the prince one more. Sleep had evaded them regularly, their nighttime meetings had become almost an ongoing occurrence.

In a way, she reveled in it. Each night he would express his worries, his concern for their safety, and the outcome of this war. "As one who chose to fight, it is my responsibility to confront this anguish and the nature of war. Until the day my life comes to an end." He said one night.

 _That may be true_ , she thought, _but he need not face it alone._ She met his eye, keeping her gaze firm, "we can confront it together."

At her smile, his shoulders seemed to slacken. His demeanor relaxed as his lips upturned and his stare softened, "thank you. You know Professor," her old title returning to his lips, "there is something that I only recently realized." His smile grew as she eyed him curiously. "I never knew it could be so comforting to have someone standing by my side."

And just like that, she found her answer.

There it is.

What she had always wanted was to stand by his side.

* * *

**My Beloved.**

"Come now, my friend. You must stop staying up so late."

 _Ah, there it is again_ , she mused as he continued, listening intently to every word he said. But the moonlight was cruel, it bathed him in an ethereal glow that made her mind race.

He expressed worry for her wounds, but what of his? He spoke of hopes and dreams, but what of his own? As his nightmares and voices continue to haunt him, she wanted to be there to face the dawn with him. Not as his professor, his tactician, or his friend.

"Once a professor and student, now an archbishop and a king. How very far we have come."

She shook her head, "only our titles have changed." The people they have become, the tragedies they've endured, all of it only brought them closer together. Deep down, they were still the same two people, leaning on each other for guidance.

"That is true," he said. "To me, you will always be the one who guided me so kindly. My ally through all My beloved—" He stopped, her breathing did along with him. "Yes..." he sighed, his eye closing in contemplation. "My beloved..."

A silver band with a green emerald was placed in her palm. His eye scanned her features rapidly, searching for a reaction she did not even possess for herself. Her entire mind blanked until her mother's ring reminded her of the original goal for coming here in the first place.

"Please, I beg of you. Say something!" She had never heard such an urgency in his voice. Not on the battlefield nor the rain-filled night. "If you do not wish to accept it, please, just tell me. If so, I will face the truth and walk away."

 _What? No!_ Her mind roared. If Sothis were here she would mentally slap her. "That's not it at all," she said, not hiding the emotion thickening her voice. Reaching down in her pocket, she fished for her silver band and placed it firmly in his palm.

"What is this?"

Worries seemed to vanish. A smile growing on her features at the sigh before her. His wide eye, his mouth agape, the trembling of his hand in her’s as he slowly gripped the ring. "I love you, Dimitri. Marry me."

All of a sudden things felt...light. His smile, his tender gaze, all of it lifted away with any burden or ache she might have had. As he removed his glove and their skin touched for the first time she felt herself tremble

He remarked on her warm hands, not even noticing that his held the same warmth.

What a pair they made, rings and all.

"Thank you, my beloved." 

-

-

-

She wore the endearment with honor, just as he said it with pride. She heard him once while walking down an archway outside the knight's hall. Felix's voice coming from the inside and asking, "have you seen the professor?"

The smile in his voice was palpable, "I have not seen my beloved yet. But I will be joining her for lunch soon."

She could hear the duke scoff, "you could at least wipe that smirk off your face." Her laughter alerted the two men. Her fiancée’s eye gleamed at her arrival and blush in response to his words. “Gross,” Felix mumbled before informing her of Seteth requesting her presence.

They did have lunch together that day and every day until the horses were prepared for Dimitri to make the journey back to Fhirdiad. “My beloved,” he sighed into her hair as they embraced, “I miss you already.”

“Then try not to think about me so much, then you won’t be as sad.”

“Impossible.” He smiled as his arms tightened around her. “With a beloved as wonderful as mine. I will be thinking of you morning, noon, and night.” This time she scoffed, playfully though, as she buried her face further into his tunic.

Throughout their days after the war, they busied themselves with organization, charities, and peace-time efforts that made Fodlan a better place for all.

People would ask her if she required anything if there was something on her personal docket she had not accomplished. She could not speak of herself just yet, everything still felt so new, so undeserved. How could she say she missed her love while he was a four-day ride away tending to people in need? How could she say she longed to finally settle in a single place with the love of her life instead of traversing through Fodlan?

No, she couldn't. Just thinking of doing such a thing brought a wave of guilt and despair to settle in her stomach. But a quick glance at her ring eased her spirit, his weekly letters brought a smile to her face each time, and it was exactly one year after the war when he visited Garreg Mach and she knew that she would be leaving with him. A smile never leaving their face as he helped her into the carriage that would be taking her home.

* * *

**Byleth.**

Their wedding ceremony was lavish. Truly a celebration for all of Fodlan as the King and Archbishop wed. His laughter was infectious, her smile was mesmerizing, and neither could think of a time they had ever been happier.

“My beloved,” he called her the day before the ceremony and followed with words of reassurance and love. “My light,” he uttered during their vows. “My sun, moon, and stars,” he whispered to her during their carriage ride down the streets of Fhirdiad. She was convinced he spent their whole time apart coming up with different terms and endearments to call her when they reunited.

But above all the names, titles, and endearments. Her favorite was—

“Byleth...” He hoarsely whispered as she nibbled his earlobe.

“Byleth.” Unsteady and breathless as her hands traveled low and caressed him with the utmost care.

“Byleth!” A moan of ecstasy as he eased into her, the two becoming one at last.

He cried her name out into the night just as she turned his into a plea. Never before had her name sounded so sweet until it was uttered by his lips.

As his thrusts became desperate, as their lips searched, her name was all he could say. She enveloped his mind just as her body accepted him, it was a form of euphoria neither had ever felt before.

“Byleth,” he sighed into the night like a prayer as her arms encircled his waist and her head rested against his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

**My heart.**

Happiness. That’s what Dimitri truly felt now that his beloved, his wife, Byleth moved her residence permanently to Fhirdiad. Each day brought new expressions to her face and new conversations to discuss. Just as each night brought new experiences that left one another breathless—boneless—beautiful.

He never knew she was so soft, so tender as his lips brushed along her neck and she sighed. Her body relaxing on top of his as the moonlight shone through the drapes giving her a glow that rivaled the goddess. “My beloved,” he whispered while his fingers tangled in her hair. The sound of light laughter widened his smile. It faltered slightly as she moved lower on his chest and a question fell from his lips. He was silenced by the feel of warm kisses.

“Dimitri,” a kiss, “my love,” and another, “my heart.” She spoke so clearly into the night, then gazed up at him with emotion-filled eyes, tears of happiness or sadness he could not tell. It made his heart hammer nonetheless. As if she sensed it, she pressed an ear down and repeated the words. “My love, my heart.”

“I love you.”


	2. War (of sorts)

During the war, meetings consisted of everyone gathered around the war table, scout reports, marching formations, and Dimitri giving his final say before the meeting adjourned. The time span of these discussions varied. Sometimes they were merely minutes with simple reports. Other times they were hours, where discussions dragged on and some dukes or counts took it upon themselves to act as if they were the archbishop and deliver a sermon to the council. But  _ never _ in the duration of the war had a meeting ever gone  _ this _ long.

Byleth could feel her brow twitch involuntarily. Caught up in the longest meeting of her lifetime. And all over the proposal to build a school in Duscur. Mercedes and Dedue sat silent and stone-faced as bishops from the eastern and western churches clamored away about the resources and funds needed to accomplish such a project. Meanwhile, the other lords simply stared on, awaiting their turn to speak or looking just as bored as the king who sat at the head of the table.

She wanted to laugh, never before had her husband displayed such impatience so openly. The hint was finally taken when Dimitri merely grunted in acknowledgment instead of answering in his usual polite tone. The bishop in question shot a look to Byleth who prompted the room, “perhaps we should all take a brief recess?” Her dulcet tone washed over the nobles and religious figures at the table. Just the sound of it prompted Dimitri’s single blue to meet her gaze, his expression going soft before he nodded in agreement.

“A splendid idea, Your Grace. I think we all could use a break.”

At once, everyone rose from their seats and began slowly leaving the meeting room. Duke Fraldarius and Margrave Gautier stayed behind, however, and their hushed whispers towards the king did not go unnoticed. Dimitri’s brows were knit tightly as he looked from one man to the other. His shoulders were tense and his jaw clenched in unspoken frustration Byleth desperately wanted to relieve. 

Then an idea— _ an oh so clever idea _ —popped into her head

“Dimitri,” Byleth called from her seat, her tone unintentionally sweet this time.

Her mouth quirked in an involuntary smile that almost matched Dimitri’s grin at hearing his name from her lips. “Yes, beloved?”   
  


“I was wondering if you could join me for a quick lunch? I am a little hungry and I know you haven’t eaten since early this morning.”

“I would love nothing more.” His answer came quickly and was accompanied by a slight bow. _ A gentleman as always, even after three months of marriage. _

Byleth nodded, already looking forward to their lunch date and sparing a glance to both Felix and Sylvain. “I’ll be waiting for you in the dining hall, honey bear.”

A hush fell over the room as a slight blush blossomed on Dimitri’s cheeks. Sylvain did not even try to hold in the snicker which set them even more ablaze. “R-right, I shall see you soon.”

_ That wide eye, flustered expression made it all worth it. _

* * *

After that, it became almost a daily occurrence for Byleth to find Dimitri at some point during the day and set his heart alight all over again. Once it was while he was in the stables, giving instructions to the knights who were about to go on patrol. “Good job, sweetheart.” She uttered even more sweetly than before. Some of the knights chuckled from their mounts as their king blinked before another furious blush adorned his face.

What Byleth lived for were the moments after her newest endearment was birthed. When Dimitri wrapped his arms around her oh so gently and kissed her cheek oh so sweetly. Almost hiding his smitten expression in her tresses of mint while she laughed into his embrace.

What she didn’t know then was that a game had just been born. A clever game where the King of Faerghus was now about to make his strike.

In the middle of the night, during one of the grueling meetings with Seteth in Byleth’s office. The two had just finalized sermons and relief efforts to be carried out by chapels across Fódlan when a knock at the door alerted them to the presence of Dimitri. “Pardon the intrusion, Your Grace, Seteth.” He said before directing his attention to Byleth only. “I have taken the liberty of instructing your dinner to be served in our quarters.”

Only then did Byleth recognize the time, a yawn building in her throat just from the realization. “Thank you, Dimitri. I won’t be much longer.” She reassured as Seteth mirrored her statement with his own but Dimitri waved the two off carefreely.

“It is no trouble. I shall see you soon, my light.”

Now Byleth had always thought she mastered the neutral expression. Such had always been told to her from a young age. But judging by Seteth’s astonishment, Dimitri’s glee, and how warm her face suddenly felt. That must not have been the case at this moment.

_ It is war then _ .

* * *

The first wave of attacks came at dawn as Dimitri accompanied Byleth to the dining hall for breakfast. Always the gentleman, he carried her tray and even pulled her chair out for her. This was the perfect chance for Byleth to sneak a quick kiss to his cheek and say “much thanks, sugar pie.”

Judging by the look in his eye, her attack was quite effective.

* * *

He retaliated all the same and then some. In the afternoon as Byleth was hosting choir practice for a few new clergymen and nuns, she could spot him. Lingering in the last row of pews. Waiting for her to finish her duties so the two could spend some time together. Just as Byleth spoke the dismissal with some brief encouragement and corrections, she noticed him rise and begin his trek to her.

“Your voice never fails to mesmerize me, my guiding light.”

_ Damn him.  _ Byleth thought as the blush rose once again and the nuns giggled while they hurried out.

* * *

Sometime later, the royal couple began making preparations for their trip back to Fhirdiad to resume overseeing kingdom business. Dimitri had been in the Knights Hall, conversing with a few Cardinals when Byleth walked in. “Excuse me, my sweet, I must speak to you for a moment.”

The endearment had its usual effect: red cheeks, gleaming eye, throat being cleared. But Dimitri has always been, and always will be, a quick learner. “Of course, my dearest. Excuse me, gentlemen.”

Byleth was still smiling as she raised her arm, expecting him to offer his own for her to take. However his eye narrowed dangerously and instead of extending his arm, he wrapped it around her waist and led her out. But not before asking at a normal, eavesdroppable volume: “what troubles you, gorgeous?”

_ A double attack! _

Dimitri’s roar of laughter could also be heard by others. Caused by the playful glare Byleth shot towards him.

* * *

Their endearments war became even more ridiculously enjoyable in their carriage ride back to Fhirdiad.

“You should take a quick nap, angel eye.”

“Only if you’ll join me, sunshine.”

And as they greeted their staff at the palace.

“Excuse me, everyone.” Dimitri announced, “I believe my starlight and I must get some rest for the busy day tomorrow.”

Byleth was at his side instantly, no longer bothering to hide her blush. “Right after you, my heart.”

Others around them knew by the slight growl in Dimitri’s throat that the two were not to be disturbed that night.

* * *

At some point during this make-believe, playful war. Their endearments game had transformed into a simple show of affection. It would amuse the two of them endlessly throughout their busy work schedules. Thinking up different names and imagining the other's reaction, only for the real expression to completely take their breath away.

In that sense, those around them instantly knew how infatuated the king and archbishop were with one another. How even when they were not in the same room, the two were just as desperately in love as when they first wed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the brevity of this chapter and how long it took me to update.
> 
> This final chapter was always mean to be something small and fluffy. But I do apologize for how long it took me. I hope you all enjoyed this piece. :)


End file.
